


Waxing Moon (Thirteenth Night)

by ayatsujik



Series: Threads and Times [3]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-05 06:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12185040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayatsujik/pseuds/ayatsujik
Summary: Natori invites Natsume to his family house to help with a project during the mid-autumn season. Things Happen (not a casefic, and not a smutfic, although it has elements of the one and the prospect of the other).





	Waxing Moon (Thirteenth Night)

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Thirteenth night refers to the viewing celebration for the waxing moon on the 13th day of the 9th month of the lunar calendar, following the full-moon viewing on the 15th night of the 8th month. For a working introduction to Japan's version of the mid-autumn festival, which is widely celebrated in East Asia, see [Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsukimi). 
> 
> 2\. While nominally canon-compliant, this story kills off Natori's father (being that angry and suspicious probably shortens one's life span even if you're Japanese, sorry not sorry) and moves Sumi into retirement (which seems plausible, as she looks in her 50s when Natori's in high school). 
> 
> 3\. For semi-prequels, see 1) [To Preserve](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12066360) and 2) [50/50](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12092823). Every piece also works as a standalone story, but there are a couple of instances in the final segment which reference 50/50.

 

 _for maya_ (@killjoyras)  
with thanks for the inspired conversation about NxN as OTP :3

 

見せたくて  
あげたくて  
聞けないことがあって  
うまく誓えない

絡めた指  
解くなんて  
でもどうにかしてでも  
生きてしまう

あんだぎなーぬ 大月ぬ夜

things I want to show you  
things I want to give you  
things I can't ask you  
can't promise well

even to unfasten  
our entwined fingers  
but no matter how  
we just keep living

such a beautiful moon tonight

  
\-- Cocco, "Thirteenth Night" 「十三夜」

 

*

 

He'd reached a particularly abstruse passage in a book about the principles of incantations, and the words on the page were starting to blur together. Their woodblock-print calligraphic script, never easy to decipher at the best of times, was mutating into bizarre shapes. The author, a Buddhist priest, had obviously cared little for either concision or logic in his erudition, and the formal convolution of old Japanese prose only made everything worse.

Natori blinked and sighed, setting a bookmark into the text, and closed it. He brushed flaking bits of decaying wood pulp off his hands and exhaled deeply, trying not to think about how little headway he'd been able to make.

He was training himself in exorcism. He'd started this enterprise less than a year ago. He was seventeen. Objectively, he could see it was no mean feat that he'd managed to learn as much as he had under these circumstances, in a constant process of trial and error.

He wished he could feel the way he thought.

A while ago Takuma, grown resigned to his career choice, had gifted him with a couple of dictionaries used in the trade. These will help parse the texts you're trying to read, he'd said, and recommended some particularly useful titles to include on his reading list. Natori hadn't asked him for more than that. He had many reasons to be deeply grateful, though. Takuma was kind enough to check that he wasn't doing anything too dangerous, and shrewd enough to extend occasional offers of assistance when he sensed Natori needed them.

Still, he felt heavy, most days. Filled with frustration at his perceived slowness in learning. It weighed on him, this work. Trying to absorb new knowledge and techniques from the more arcane writings was a laborious process. And no matter how many texts he made it through, no matter how many notebooks he filled with observations and practice diagrams and questions, there still wasn't any hint of how to deal with the birthmark that stalked his skin.

Natori reached for his school blazer, hooking it over his shoulders. He'd taken it off when he'd come in during the middle of the day, but it had gotten chilly. October had arrived, and fall was deepening. The room was filled with the shadows of the piles of books and manuscripts and scrolls that surrounded him. The kerosene lamp he'd used for the past several nights had dimmed noticeably; he'd soon need to refill it. Outside the small window of the storehouse, it was completely dark.

Maybe it was time for a break. Natori stretched, grimacing at the popping sounds that came from his neck and arms.

There was a knock on the door. "Yes," he called out. It creaked open, revealing his housekeeper's smiling face.

"Your dinner's ready, Shuuichi-bocchan. I thought...your father's away for tonight, won't you come out and eat it? It's late, and you need a proper meal - you've had nothing but rice balls this whole week."

"I think I'm done for today, and that sounds good," he said, and smiled back at her. "Thank you, Sumi-san."

They walked over to the dining area of the large house. The table inside was set with a tray of tea and a larger one of food, crowded with dishes. Sumi had pushed back the screen doors to reveal the garden, picturesque and manicured. The wind rustled in the hinoki cypress trees that stood near the walls of the mansion, and stirred the richly-coloured leaves of the ornamental maple shrubs closer to the house; the water in the small carp pond glistened in the moonlight.

A low table stood on the wooden verandah that framed the room's exterior. It bore a small, square platter that held fifteen white rice-flour dumplings, arranged in a perfect triangular pile. Next to it stood a heap of autumn produce: persimmons, chestnuts, mushrooms. Beside the table was a tall vase filled with a sheaf of susuki grasses, their pale, feathery tops waving in the night breeze.

"Is it already full moon?" Natori asked.

Sumi, pouring him a cup of tea, nodded. "Have some of the tsukimi dumplings after your dinner, Shuuichi-san. Oh, and look up."

He did. The ivory disk shone like a luminous pearl, even shadowed by a veil of clouds.

"The forecast did say it would be overcast tonight," Sumi sighed. "But it's still a beautiful mid-autumn moon, isn't it?"

"It is," Natori said thoughtfully, seating himself at the dining table. "...Somehow I like it more with the clouds, too. Because it isn't perfect."

"What a funny thing to say," Sumi laughed. "But it's like you, Shuuichi-san."

"Is it?" Natori said wryly. He picked up his chopsticks, and tried to ignore the sight of a black, reptilian squiggle disappearing down the cuff of his right sleeve.

  
*

  
He'd aired out the study, laid out futon in the spare room, and unlocked the storehouse. There was still some time before his guests came, so he went back inside to inspect the first floor. Standing in the still, quiet shadows of the dining room, he thought about Sumi, now retired and returned to her hometown. She didn't have any children, he knew. He'd need to send her his customary note and gift of autumn greetings before the season ended.

Natori walked over to the screen doors and slid them open, looking out at the garden. The air outside was crisp, and the maples outside were already covered in orange-red leaves, glowing in the early afternoon light.

He hadn't come to the house for months. Following Sumi's retirement, his father had hired two caretakers, a middle-aged couple who came in once a month to dust and maintain the grounds. They lived nearby, and their offer to continue this arrangement after the elder Natori's passing made it possible for him to visit the house at any time.

Natori appreciated their work. He would never think of this house as a home, and couldn't imagine coming back to live here. Nonetheless, it was a beautiful old place, despite everything. A tangible link to the family heritage he'd fought to don the mantle of. It was also the repository of his exorcism library - which, he thought with secret pride, had to be one of the most comprehensive in the trade. He'd brought his notebooks and the volumes he used most often to his current place, but the storehouse here still held hundreds of uncatalogued texts, which would have been highly impractical to try and move to an apartment.

The uncomfortable fact was that his father's death made visiting so much easier. He didn't like feeling that way, but it was the unvarnished truth.

A while ago, Takuma had called with a proposal to give him a collection of books and manuscripts. No more use for these now I'm retired, he'd said, laughing ruefully. I'd be glad to know they're with you. Natori had gratefully accepted, asking for them to be sent to his family's mansion. Takuma had obliged, and further urged him to check on the condition of the other texts in the storehouse.

/They're all just sitting there moulding, aren't they? You really should consider moving them inside, Shuuichi-kun. It's your house, now, even if you don't live there anymore. Old paper won't last unless you take proper care of it, and besides, you'll be able to use those materials better in a proper study./

It made sense. He liked the idea of setting up a study that he could use as necessary, especially since there was already one in the house. It had belonged to his grandfather. On his death, most of its contents had been moved to the storehouse, or distributed to other relatives. His father had never used it. The elder Natori, in addition to having his own work room, had never particularly cared for books, and had himself suffered a difficult relationship with his own patriarch. So he'd said nothing when his son had occupied it, doing schoolwork there, and taking naps on its overstuffed chaise lounge.

The study was a large space on the first floor, outfitted with ceiling-high bookcases, deep cupboards, and a long teak desk. Natori wasn't sure how many texts there were in the warehouse - try as he had, he'd never come close to being able to read everything - but the room would certainly accommodate most, if not all of them. Takuma's materials would easily fit onto a couple of shelves. And now, thanks to Natsume, he also had a box of intriguing scraps they'd salvaged from the Hakozaki mansion this past spring -

The buzzer rang, and the ancient intercom crackled to life.

"Natori-san, are you there? We're here!"

Speaking of Natsume.

He felt a smile overtake him as he walked across the grounds to unbolt the front gate. His spirits further lifted at the sight of the slender figure waiting outside, who wore jeans and a mint-green jumper and an answering smile like sunshine. He held a couple of bags and a sentient mass of orange-white grumpiness, splayed over his shoulder in a fluffy, bulky heap.

Natori led them in along the stone path to the house. "Thanks for coming all the way out, Natsume. You didn't have any problems getting in?"

"Just Nyanko-sensei feeling nauseous from that huge spirit barrier outside," Natsume laughed. "Hiiragi picked us up on the way from the station." He nodded towards the shiki, who was following their conversation from the branch of a nearby tree.

"I didn't ask her to do that," Natori said, raising a brow. "She's become quite a fan of yours."

"Oi, what are we having for dinner, Natori-brat?" Nyanko-sensei broke in, unapologetically. "We're here to do you a favour, and I almost threw up my lunch from trying to get through your damn barrier, so you'd better have sashimi ready, see? Or wagyu! Both!"

"I'm afraid I have to disappoint you, piggy-cat, but the good news is that there's a nice udon place a short walk away from here. My treat, and you can order all you want."

"*All* I want?!" Nyanko-sensei squawked, starry-eyed.

"Sensei," Natsume said reprovingly, giving him a light thwack. "Don't be greedy. Natori-san's letting us spend the night here, remember? And he's going to teach me some protective spells in return for helping him organise his storehouse library."

"That means I'm going to make you do some heavy lifting, quite literally, so don't worry about eating a lot later," Natori smiled. "Oh, and there's sake for the kitty in the kitchen cellar, to make up for the barrier sickness. *If* we get through what I want to do today, that is."

  
*

  
Between the two of them, they carried stacks of aged paper from the storehouse into the study. Their cargo consisted mostly of hardback volumes, bound with thick cardboard, or collections of pages simply stitched together with cotton thread. There were also numerous rolled scrolls and pieces of parchment in envelopes. The day was warm, and it didn't take long for both of them to get down to shirtsleeves. Natsume took off his jumper less than an hour into their work, and Natori removed his overshirt soon after. They laboured in companionable silence, broken by sneezes from clouds of pulp dust, snippets of conversation about the contents of what they were moving, and the snoring of Nyanko-sensei, napping in a patch of sunlight near the large window of the study. Hiiragi was a quiet observer perched on a wooden ceiling beam.

It occurred to Natori, in the midst of arranging books into piles, that this was a completely new situation for him. He'd never invited anyone over to his house before. As a schoolboy, he'd had nobody to invite, and even if otherwise, he wouldn't have wanted them to come here.

He hadn't considered this when he'd issued the invitation. It helped that it was for an assignment. They had a clear reason for being here, and there was a task to accomplish.

The question was, what happened after that?

He'd have to figure it out. Right now, Natsume was beside him, a warm, bright presence making him more uncertain than he wanted to admit, although he made sure to keep an unruffled exterior.

How strange, to have him in this house. A light in its stiff, shadowy spaces. He'd been worried, apparently needlessly, that Natsume would pick up on some lingering trace of old conflicts in the house's aura. But he looked relaxed, as if he were enjoying himself. That much was a relief.

They really did work well together, Natori thought.

Truth be told, he could get used to this. It would be all too easy to keep asking Natsume to visit, especially when he knew the answer would always be a yes. To do this kind of work with him, which didn't involve the things they disagreed about. To extract the benefits of his affection and his obliging nature. He didn't want to think about how badly part of him wanted that. It couldn't happen, he told himself, because that would be selfish, and because he didn't want to risk...what? He couldn't bring himself to say. The knowledge lurked at the edges of his consciousness, waiting for him to confront it.

It was up to him to protect the boundaries that marked their relationship, even though (or especially because) he knew Natsume had far fewer scruples on that end. It was for the best, really. This way, they could still see each other, and Natori could focus on doing things to help protect him.

Easier to tell himself that he was simply giving Natsume access to the knowledge about exorcism he himself had struggled so hard to gain.

Better to remember that there were still lines between them they couldn't cross, and possibly never would.

Natori sighed, picking up another heap of papers, and shook his head with a half-smile when Natsume glanced at him in concern.

After a couple of hours they'd filled a generous section of the room's floor, and Natori decided it was time to stop and organise. He directed Natsume to sort the scrolls and envelopes into separate piles, while he began to shelve the books by topic. Some time passed before Natsume exclaimed in surprise.

Natori looked over quizzically. "What's wrong, Natsume?"

"This is you, isn't it, Natori-san?" Natsume was holding up a small rectangle of paper. He flipped it so Natori could see. "It fell out when I picked up this bunch of folders."

It was a faded snapshot of a little boy, about five or six years old. He wore a navy suit and red bowtie, and was posed in the embrace of an large, elegantly carved wooden chair. He was a handsome child, sitting quite still. It would have been an impeccable portrait, but he was looking off to the side, refusing to face the camera.

"How embarrassing," Natori smiled, wryly. "And how on earth did you dig that up? You do have a talent for finding the strangest things, don't you."

"Did your parents make you sit for this photo?" Natsume asked.

"Probably my mother did, or my grandfather," Natori replied. "Most of the things in the storehouse belonged to him. And - my father wasn't the kind of parent who would have kept a photo like that."

He could feel Natsume's eyes on him, concerned and alert. They held questions that Natori knew he was wondering whether to ask, and how, if so.

Natori reached out and took the picture from Natsume's fingers, studying it. There was what might have been a hint of a dark flicker at the cuff of his right wrist, although no ordinary person would have been able to see it. Natsume almost certainly had.

"I already knew, from Hiiragi, but you really were cute as a kid," Natsume remarked with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

"And my adult self isn't, you mean? How awful of you to wound me so," he said, reflexively projecting an aura of injured sparkles. He didn't need to look to know that there was a resigned expression on Natsume's face, the one that said, more or less,  _as if you don't know you don't need to do that_.

Natori looked at his child-self, staring out from the old photograph. His face was intent, as if observing something beyond the picture's frame. Maybe there had been a nearby youkai. He didn't look unhappy. His mother had still been alive when this had been taken, hadn't she? That would mean his father hadn't yet started to shun him, and his grandfather hadn't yet begun believing the rumours that he was causing trouble.

He really hadn't thought about any of this, not for a long, long time.

After an extended pause, Natori said, half to himself, "I wonder why they wanted me to sit for this photo. It's just one of the things you make children do, I suppose. I don't think my family particularly wanted pictures of me around. I...didn't get along with most of them, you see." He laid the photo face-down on the desk. "My grandfather was upset that I had spirit powers. Not nearly as upset as my father was, though. That's what happens when you make a child like me in an exorcist clan that's left the business."

"Natori-san -" Natsume began.

"It's all right, Natsume," he said quickly, snapping out of his reverie. He injected a cheery tone into his voice. "Nothing to be upset about. People don't like things that threaten their way of life. Being related by blood just makes it more complicated, that's all. It is what it is."

"It's still hard, even if that's how it is," Natsume said quietly.

Natori looked at him, and his eyes softened. Of course Natsume knew. He would, wouldn't he? They'd both survived a childhood as the only one in their families with spirit powers. They both understood what it was to endure that kind of loneliness.

"You too, I see."

"The relatives I stayed with before Touko-san and Shigeru-san didn't want me there, too. They didn't know what to do with me, after I started having trouble with youkai." Natsume paused. "But they weren't bad people. And...my own parents were nice, before all that happened. Though my mother died when I was still a baby."

"Your father was kind to you?" Natori asked gently. Natsume nodded.

Natori reached out and ruffled his hair. "He must have been wonderful. Look how well you turned out."

"...What about your mother, Natori-san?"

"We got along fine, but I also lost her early. She died a few years after that photo was taken."

"I see," Natsume murmured.

"You know, I don't think I've ever talked about my family to anyone before," Natori said, absently rubbing the back of his neck. He felt almost giddy, and surprised at himself. There was no reason to feel like this. He'd known full well that inviting Natsume to spend time with him was, as much as it gave pleasure, to risk a slip in the appearances he curated. To open inconvenient gates of emotion.

Even so, he hadn't expected to say this much. 

Natsume was dangerous like that. He had a certain ability, just by looking and listening, to draw things out of you that you'd never planned to share. And then he made you feel good about doing so, with a smile that was its own reward.

"Really?" Natsume asked, smiling that smile. "So I'm the first?"

"And the only, probably," Natori said. Smooth but serious. He watched a look of shy pleasure cross Natsume's face, and had to refrain from reaching out again.

  
*

  
The evening sun was starting to paint the sky in shades of vermilion, and they were in the midst of another trip to the storehouse, when they both felt a sudden surge of spirit energy.

They stiffened, looking around for its source. It appeared to be coming from the ornamental pond in the garden, which was near where they stood.

Then the voice came, a wet, sibilant kind of growl.

/Reiko. Natsume Reiko. Smell you. You, here./

Water and various aquatic life forms exploded out of the pond in a fountain that drenched both of them. When they'd stopped spluttering, they were confronted by the formidable shape of a large youkai. Its body was patterned in black and yellow, like a carp; it had a similarly whiskered fish's head and reptilian limbs. 

Its huge eyes, murky and disc-like, settled on Natsume, who had gone white.

/Reiko. Found you. Name. My name. Give me back. *Give me*./

Natori kept calm, thinking. The location of its entrance meant the barrier around the house, which he'd taken pains to fortify, didn't extend to the underground waterways. An unforeseen oversight. He'd have to work a seal over the pond. And right now, he would exorcise this thing, if necessary.

He tried wearing his glasses, and tore them off again; they were smudged with water. Fortunately, this youkai wasn't particularly hard to see. He then groped for a paper charm, but the ones in his pocket were soaked through. He clicked in annoyance; he loved paper, but there were distinct disadvantages in its susceptibility to the elements.

The creature lunged forward.

"Hiiragi! Get me fresh charms! Sasago, Urihime, hold this thing back!"

Summoned, Natori's other two shiki struck out at the assailant, which howled angrily at their attacks. It shook them off, and turned its attention back to the humans. Hiiragi had returned with a dry bunch of paper figures, which Natori flung around the youkai in a chain. It writhed in pain, the small shapes sizzling as they cut into its limbs. But it was strong, and broke free after a few moments of struggling.

"Nyanko-sensei!" Natsume screamed.

There were running footsteps, and a burst of power electrified the air. Natsume's guardian morphed into his original form, a tower of gleaming white fur and teeth.

Madara roared at the invader, and leapt forward to bite it. In his powerful jaws it shrank to a small, sad thing. He spat it out with a grunt, switching back to his fortune-cat shape. Sasago and Urihime hovered nearby, glaring at it.

The carp-reptile youkai squirmed on the grass, diminished and wailing. /Reiko. My name. Give back. Give me./

"Hmph," Nyanko-sensei snorted. "Can I eat it, Natsume? It stinks, but fish is fish."

"Sensei," Natsume said patiently, picking a confused frog off his soaked T-shirt. "Let's talk to it, first." Before Natori could say anything, he knelt down beside the deflated creature, his voice gentle as he spoke.

"Reiko is dead, but I'm her grandson, and I can give you back your name. Hold on for a bit."

"Dead...?" the fish-youkai whispered damply. "Reiko....?"

Natsume turned to Nyanko-sensei. "Sensei - would you help me get my bag, please?

"WHAT? You order me, this noble beast, to fetch? Do you think I'm a dog?"

"Natsume," Hiiragi interrupted. "Ignore the pig-cat. I'll do it." She disappeared briefly, and returned holding Natsume's sling bag. Natsume thanked her, and pulled a hard-bound volume out of it. Its cover said  _Book of Friends_ , in gracefully lettered Chinese characters.

"Try anything funny once you've got your name back, you low-rank rubbish, and you're going right into my belly," Nyanko-sensei threatened. A sigil on his forehead glowed. The youkai curled in on itself, groveling and protesting it would disappear right after.

Natori hung back, observing the tableau unfold.

He'd seen it happen once before, at the hot spring inn he'd taken Natsume to, but only from the middle of the process. Now he watched all of it: how Natsume closed his eyes, and opened the book, his head bowed as if in prayer. Then he chanted, his voice soft but clear:  _Thou who protects me, show thy name._

There was a strong, sudden breeze, and a rustling of paper as the book's pages fanned themselves out. A single page snapped to attention. Natsume tore it out, and folded it, bringing it to his mouth and biting down. He clapped his hands together and focused.

It was a bewitching sight, even though Natsume was damp from head to toe. He looked fey, performing this ritual, this undoing of a forbidden magic he hadn't created. His movements were filled with seamless grace, his face beautiful in its concentration.

Natori couldn't take his eyes off him. He felt his heart constrict, a mixture of anxiety and a certain kind of yearning.

Exactly how long, he wondered, had Natsume been doing this? How much energy did this take? And how much more of it would he need to do, before he could stop? 

_I return thy name. Be free, Kiutsuri._

Then Natsume blew out. As before, a string of characters unfurled from the sheet of paper, dancing through the air towards their original owner. They entered it in a long, lingering, brilliant flash. Then the light winked out.

Kiutsuri bowed to Natsume, and threw itself back into the pond. Its presence vanished.

And, just like that, it was over.

Natsume teetered forward. Natori felt his body move before his thoughts caught up. He reached Natsume's side in time to catch him as he staggered, not even noticing that Nyanko-sensei had commandeered the Book of Friends, stuffing it back into the bag.

"Are you all right?" he said, peering worriedly into Natsume's face.

"I - I'm fine," Natsume gasped, clutching the wet fabric of Natori's shirt with a clammy hand. He'd started to shiver in the cool air. Fine droplets of water speckled his long lashes. "Sorry. I'm just always a bit dizzy after returning a name - there's this moment when its memories of Reiko-san come into my head, and then it's like some kind of plug's been pulled. She - she found this one in the pond of her family's house, and then of course she beat it in a fight she'd rigged, and it's been moving around, looking..."

"Natsume," he said, very gently, keeping an arm around his waist. "Tell me about it later. Let's go and dry off before we both catch colds."

  
*

  
Natsume had packed nothing more than pyjamas and a change of underwear, intending to re-wear his clothes the next day. Natori had done the same. In that situation, as it turned out, the only available clothes in the house for them to use were Natori's old kimono, retrieved from boxes in his room on the second floor. He had several he'd used for family gatherings and other formal occasions throughout his boyhood. He ushered Natsume to a hot shower; in the interim, he hung up their wet clothes to dry in the laundry room, and made some considered choices about the ones that would replace them. When Natsume emerged, he handed him a pile of cloth, and took his place in the bathroom, letting the warm spray wash away the dank smell of pondwater and algae.

In a few minutes he was done, and returned to his room to dress. Toweling off his hair, in his briefs and undershirt, he studied the robes he'd laid out, along with the necessary accoutrements: obi belt, fastener ties, tabi socks, sandals. Haori coats, for the coming chill of night. His Western-style outfits, including his school uniforms, had been given away or re-purposed as he'd outgrown them, or after he'd left home. The kimono were valuable, however, and Sumi had wanted to keep all of them for him, including the light summer yukata.

/One day you'll have a son, Shuuichi-san, and then you can give these to him. He'll be as handsome as you are, I'm sure./

I don't think that's going to happen, Sumi-san, he'd thought to himself, adding a silent apology. He hadn't been able to correct her; she'd looked so pleased by the thought of a son he had no intention of ever making.

He hadn't touched these garments in years, but everything was clean and crisp, folded away with care. Sumi had placed cedar balls in the lacquered storage boxes, and the clothes were permeated with their fresh, woody scent. Since leaving home he'd bought a couple of kimono to use for his exorcist jobs, because traditional dress tended to put the more conservative of his older, rural-dwelling clients at ease, but his work robes were nowhere as finely made as these ones. The kimono maker the Natori clan had used was famous in these parts, a family of tailors generations old. These fabrics would last for decades more with proper maintenance.

Natori adjusted the wrap and secured the folds of the nagajuban under-robe, before reaching for the kimono, and finally taking up the obi. He'd chosen a combination that his younger self had liked: an outer robe the deep green of pine needles, an under-robe with a yellow-green collar, and a dark brown belt.

Despite his acting career, he had little interest in fashion. Western-style clothing was mostly functional; it required no particular thought, and there were stylists to dress him for the camera's demands. But there was an elaborate, ritual aspect to kimono wearing that he'd always enjoyed. It was a kind of challenge, the way you needed to layer pieces and colours and patterns to create a coherent whole. He knew he was good at it.

He finished tying the obi, and gave himself a critical glance in the mirror. He recalled showing Sumi the robes when they had arrived from the tailors, how she'd thought them a little too subdued for an adolescent. He'd usually chosen hues darker than she'd considered appropriate for his age. Looking at his reflection now, though, he felt that he'd grown into these colours. Maybe he'd chosen them for his future self, back then. In terms of size, the sleeves and hem were now several centimetres too short on him, but the whole outfit still worked. And the one he'd given Natsume, from his first year in high school, should fit him fine.

Speaking of Natsume. Natori felt a wave of anticipation rise in him, and went downstairs to see if Natsume was ready.

The door to the spare room slid open when he knocked. He was greeted by a vision in a soft blue kimono, fastened with an obi the yellow of yamabuki roses. The bright hue formed an attractive contrast to the smoky tinge in the blue, and the collar of his under-robe was a pale fawn, highlighting the wearer's tawny hair and eyes. The robes were a touch large on him, but that hardly mattered.

Natori's heart skipped a beat, and then another, a series of hard, painful flutters. He froze in place, the cheery greeting in his mouth turned to dust.

About now, for this kind of scene, he should have turned the sparkle and glamour up to maximum intensity. It called for whipping out an array of extravagant compliments, bows, or hand-kisses. He considered his motion picture scripts, and how they usually recommended that he maintain an air of cool charm while he surveyed the object of his affections, even when he was protesting his love for them. It was essential, one director had once told him, that he be in control of the wheel.

/That's what women want. There isn't any obstacle you can't navigate when pursuing her. She's going to be yours; you already know how it's going to end./

In reality - as he was starting to discover, whether he liked it or not - love felt far closer to an improvised collision course, there wasn't any woman, and he had no idea where he was headed.

"Please stop staring, Natori-san," Natsume mumbled, looking away. His face had gone pink. "Does this look weird, or something?"

Natori coughed, louder and longer than necessary, and endeavoured to sound normal.

"No. No, it doesn't. It...it really suits you, Natsume."

"He didn't know how to tie the belt, though!" Nyanko-sensei cackled from behind Natsume, who glared daggers at him.

"Didn't he? Let me see." Grateful for the distraction, he gently turned Natsume around, ignoring his protests. He couldn't help laughing at the unwieldy knot the obi had been contorted into at the back of the kimono, in addition to how Natsume had also inadvertently tied it too high up his body. It was understandable: the stiff, starched cotton of the obi was harder to manage than the lighter, softer ones used for yukata, which, he now realised, likely formed the extent of Natsume's encounters with traditional Japanese dress. Hakama trousers would probably have left him totally confounded.

"I've never done this before! I don't own any kimono, unlike you!" Natsume spluttered, in confirmation of his thoughts.

"I'll re-tie it for you, don't worry," Natori announced. He felt Natsume stiffen as he yanked at the knot to unravel it. "Hold up your sleeves, would you?"

Focus, he told himself. For the first step, he slipped the obi loose and brought it around to Natsume's front, measuring out the portion that would form one end of the knot. The next entailed him reaching around Natsume in order to wind the long, narrow strip of cloth about his hips. 

He was so slim, Natori thought. And smaller than he'd been, at the same age. Perhaps he would fill out yet; he still had a few more years to grow. It was doubtful he would overtake Natori in height, though.

His mother hadn't lived long enough to teach him how to wear kimono. That task had fallen to Sumi, who'd showed him, when he'd entered junior high, how to wear both yukata and the heavier, layered robes for cooler seasons, how to recognise and pair prints and colours. She'd praised him for getting the hang of it so quickly, especially with the obi. Most people had trouble with that, she'd laughed, even though the men's version was simpler to tie.

He found working with kimono fabrics strangely intuitive, akin to paper, although with different textures and thicknesses. And he'd always been good with paper, even before taking it up for exorcism, in the way of calligraphy and crafts like origami and kiri-e. Learning the steps involved in wearing the obi had been no trouble. It made sense to him, the way you had to hold and arrange the cloth, how you finally crossed its ends and wrapped them into the men's-style knot, with its shape that resembled the Chinese character for "shell".

He'd never helped anyone else tie an obi before. It was easier to do it for yourself than for another person, but he managed. It was a strangely soothing process, and he could feel himself regain composure as he concentrated on the task.  

The kitty was observing them in obvious amusement, rather as if he'd seen this kind of thing before.

Natori caught his stare, and Nyanko-sensei snorted, a soft, rolling harrumph. "You humans and your clothes."

It was almost finished. Natori pulled the obi's ends tight, and moved the closely-wound bands of cloth around Natsume in order to shift the knot to his back. He had to lean in close to do this, as if he was putting them on the verge of an embrace. A necessary and justifiable intimacy. He put one hand on Natsume's hip, and brushed another against his torso while making the final adjustments to the front fold of the kimono. A small noise escaped Natsume as he worked, reminiscent of a stifled gasp, or like he'd been holding his breath.

The sound sank into Natori's core. It struck a spark of what felt a lot like possessiveness, and a certain amount of satisfaction. It was an extension of the same feelings he'd had, thinking of Natsume wearing *his* clothes. Of the same cloth he'd once worn draping that slender body.

"Um, thanks," Natsume muttered. The colour was still in his cheeks, more pronounced than before.

"I think we're done for today," Natori replied. He brushed away a stray lock of hair, still slightly damp, that had fallen over Natsume's forehead. "And I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

  
*

  
Night had enveloped their surroundings in darkness when they returned from the udon place of Natori's recommendation. They'd managed to spend over an hour there, less in consuming their dinner and more in waiting for Nyanko-sensei to finish his. The proprietors of the store, an elderly man and his middle-aged son, had required some deeply wheedling sparkles on Natori's part to feed their wares to a cat-that-looked-like-a-raccoon. But it was a quiet evening, without any other customers to complain about unhygienic practices, and young master Natori was a special patron. He'd been a regular in his schooldays, and he often dropped by on his visits home, even now. And, incidentally, he'd created a not insubstantial amount of free advertising for their humble establishment, following his breakout as an actor. Besides, his attractive young companion had been very grateful for their indulgence of his strange pet. The presence of said companion was in itself remarkable, come to think of it. Had young Natori, long notorious for his solitary, reticent nature, ever brought a friend with him before? In any case, it didn't matter as long as they were paid for the largest bill they'd ever written for a party of three (which they were), and the stack of bowls ordered for the creature was emptied (and it was, every bowl licked dry of every last drop of savoury, bonito-laced broth).

Nyanko-sensei, a study in overstuffed contentment, was half-asleep on Natori's shoulder, but revived as they entered the house. "Sake! Sakeee! To meeee!" he yodeled, using his front paws to smack Natori like a drum.

"Yes, yes," Natori said, good-naturedly, turning on the lights. "You have to wait for me to get it, though."

"How can you still have room to drink, sensei?" Natsume sighed, heaving him off his perch. "I'm sure you ate that store out of their stock for the night."

"Separate stomachs for liquor and food!" Nyanko-sensei hollered back. "Besides, don't forget I saved BOTH your sorry shrimpy selves from that fish-thing earlier!"

"Natsume," Natori said, heading up the staircase. "The dining room's that way. Wait there for me, will you? I'll be right back."

When he returned, he found Natsume seated on the verandah outside the dining room, looking up at the sky. There was a paper bag by his side. Nyanko-sensei, defeated by digestion, had dozed off again in his lap, snoring rhythmically.

Natori walked over, wearing a haori, a green so dark it was close to black. He had another one draped over his arm.

"It's getting cold - you should put this on." Natori held out the haori he was carrying, and sat down beside him.

"Thank you, Natori-san," Natsume said, taking it with a smile. He shrugged it on, adjusting the two layers of sleeves, and fastened the front tie. It was midnight blue, subtly embroidered with a wave pattern.

Natori ran an appreciative eye over him. "This looks good on you, too."

"Never mind that," Natsume said hastily, reaching for the paper bag. "Here - I almost forgot, but Touko-san made this for us. She said we could eat it during a moon-viewing tonight."

"Moon - oh," Natori said, watching Natsume retrieve a small container from the bag. It was wrapped in a navy sheet of paper that was printed with tiny lavender flowers. Natsume removed the wrapper and opened the box, revealing thirteen small, white dumplings inside. Instead of the usual spheres, these were shaped like rabbits, with brown dots and lines for eyes and ears.

Very like Fujiwara-san, Natori thought in amusement. Aloud he said, "For thirteenth night, I see. How kind of her to make such adorable treats. You'll have to convey how impressed I am."

"She said something about how it's supposed to be bad luck if you only see the harvest moon on fifteenth night, but that no one says anything about only seeing the moon on thirteenth night. Which means we're fine, I think?" Natsume laughed. "I've never done this before, actually. Touko-san and Shigeru-san were busy around this time last year."

"So I'm the first person you're viewing the moon with?" Natori smiled, unable to resist slipping into dramatic mode. "My heart trembles with anticipation."

Natsume winced, making a face. "Stop, stop, it's creepy when you say things like that to me."

"Don't you want me to be honest?" Natori said, unruffled. "Incidentally, it appears to be too cloudy for us to view much of a moon, but I think we should start eating those anyway." He got to his feet. "I'll make some tea, if there's any here. I knew I should have brought some with me."

In the kitchen he found the necessary utensils and tea caddys, everything still in their old places. He opened a box and sniffed, tentatively, but it smelled fine. Probably the caretakers replaced the leaves at appropriate intervals; he'd have to remember to thank them.

As a small boy he'd made a habit of sneaking in here to watch Sumi cook, mostly because she would feed him bits of whatever she was making. He put the kettle on to boil, and set out two ceramic mugs, the simple, unglazed variety. He spooned houjicha leaves into a cast-iron teapot, and found the tray Sumi had often used to serve tea to him.

Natori poured hot water over the leaves. Steam rose in a cloud, bringing the deep, nutty scent of roasted green tea like a fragrant memory.

  
*

  
Touko had worked magic with the dumplings. They remained deliciously chewy, despite how long they'd been sitting in their container, and filled with the gentle sweetness of home-made azuki bean jam. Natsume and Natori polished off several while sipping the houjicha and looking up at the sky. The clouds had receded, and the moon had come out enough to be enjoyed. Its roundness, ever so slightly imperfect, made it almost indistinguishable from its full version. 

Natsume had saved a third of the rabbits for Nyanko-sensei, and Natori had also brought out a large bottle of sake for him. Amazingly enough, the intended recipient of these luxuries was still snoring away, although Natsume swore he would wake up and demand his drink at any second.

Natori exhaled, letting himself relax. He  _was_  relaxed, a feeling he hadn't expected to enjoy in this house. His three shiki were hovering nearby; they were out of sight, but he could sense their unobtrusive watchfulness. Their presence, along with that of Natsume and the kitty, filled him with a strange sense of peace.

"Natori-san," Natsume tentatively began, breaking his meditation. "If this isn't prying...why don't you live here anymore? It's such a big, beautiful place."

"Is it?" Natori said. He glanced down at the back of his right hand, where the lizard had temporarily settled.

"It is," Natsume said, stroking Nyanko-sensei, who grunted and turned over. "Although it feels kind of lonely."

"Well, almost everyone who lived here was lonely," Natori shrugged, and then smiled wryly at Natsume's face. "Don't look like that, Natsume. There was a kind housekeeper who took care of me. And - that's just how it was."

"You always say things like that."

"Sometimes it's easier to accept things if you think they can't be helped." Natori looked away, sipping his tea. "Speaking of help, do you still want me to teach you some protective spells? Let's go back to the study, if so."

"I do, but right now I want you to talk to me," Natsume said, ignoring his attempt to change the subject, and then looking embarrassed at his own bluntness. "I mean, please."

"About what?" Natori asked, though he already knew.

"You promised me last time you'd tell me about your past," Natsume said, gazing straight at him. "So...tell me. You already started to, when we were in the study earlier."

"What a troublesome boy you are," Natori sighed, for the show of it, and toyed with his sleeve. "But I suppose I was asking for this to happen, really. At the same time, Natsume, I don't know where to begin. Why don't you ask me questions?"

"Okay," Natsume agreed. "First, why is there such a strong barrier around this house? Hiiragi said that she and the other shiki need special charms that prevent them from being affected by it."

"After my family left the exorcist business, they became paranoid about being attacked by revenge-seeking youkai. " Natori said. He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed again. "My father in particular feared that possibility. Then they discovered I still had spirit powers, and their fears grew worse. So they got a family friend to make that barrier. It was in bad shape by the time my father died, though, so I had to patch it up and strengthen it. I suppose you could say I've inherited some of that paranoia."

"Your family thought you were a troublemaker," Natsume said sadly.

"Yes." He quirked his mouth. "That's an understatement. Your relatives also thought that about you, didn't they?"

"Yes," Natsume echoed. "But...they didn't know about my powers, they just thought I was strange. I'm not sure if my father knew I had this ability, and what he would've done if he'd found out. I think he would have still been kind to me, though."

"We tend to learn what we're taught," Natori said quietly. "It's difficult when your family deals with spirits for a living, Natsume. Takuma-san didn't react like my family did after he lost his powers, but he was the only person in his to become an exorcist. If you do this for generations, you accumulate grievances, and many things to lose, including lives. My grandfather was very strict with my father. My father felt he had things to protect, especially while my mother was alive. He even hired someone to exorcise our old shiki."

"You're nothing like your father, though."

Natori's heart twisted.

"How would you know?" he said, softly.

"I know," Natsume insisted. "The way you talk about him. What you're not saying about him. He doesn't sound anything like you."

This boy, Natori thought, helplessly.

He closed his eyes and focused, trying to quiet the rush of emotions battering him. He didn't know what to say. It didn't matter, though, because Natsume was speaking again, the words leaving his mouth in a determined tumble.

"All those books and papers we brought inside today. I barely understand anything they say; I can't even read most of them. But you can, can't you, Natori-san? You taught yourself. Isn't that incredible? I can't even imagine. Not how you managed that, or how your family reacted. You're amazing."

"Natsume," he said, embarrassed and pleased. "Actually, I've only gotten through a small amount of all those materials. It took me a long, long time to understand what I could. And Takuma-san helped me, although I made things more difficult for myself by being too proud to ask him a lot of questions. Also...my father didn't know what I was up to until I'd already started doing exorcist work on a regular basis."

"What did he do when he found out?" Natsume asked, knitting his brows in concern.

Natori smiled, sadly. "I don't really want to go into details. Let's just say I had to leave."

"Natori-san," Natsume said, his voice low. "That's terrible."

"There are worse things," Natori replied, as casually as he could. "Besides, I managed. By then I was getting better at exorcism, and building a client base. Then I got scouted as an actor, and that gave me a double income. And, well, you can see I'm doing fine, now. My inheritance worked out fine."

Natsume was looking at him, but without meeting his gaze. Natori suspected he knew what his eyes were following. He wondered if there would be a repeat of their last meeting, the one that they'd salvaged from a fight. The one that had ended with the light, cool caress of Natsume's fingertips on his face, unlocking the realisation of their relationship's true significance for him.

What he said was: "The lizard's out?"

He'd asked it lightly, but Natsume jumped, causing Nyanko-sensei to sleep-snort, and looked guilty.

Natori laughed. "No need to react like that, or you'll wake the kitty. It's hard not to look, I know. I still have to try not to."

"I was just thinking," Natsume murmured. "I'm sorry I brought that youkai here. And that you had to see me return a name just now."

"Why are you sorry? I should apologise, if anything - it attacked you in my garden, after all. And I wasn't able to stop it; we're lucky the kitty was there." Natori chuckled mirthlessly. "Youkai like to come around and accuse me of being powerful, Natsume, but honestly, there isn't really much I'm capable of."

"Don't say that," Natsume protested. "That's not true. And it's - I know. How much you worry about me having the Book of Friends." He paused, searching for what to say. His hands were clenched on his kimono-covered knees.

"I have no idea how to say this properly, Natori-san. But - but - I worry too, you know. About your lizard mark. I don't mind seeing it at all, but I don't want to make you upset if you'd rather I not look. And I don't want you to see me with the Book of Friends if that upsets you, too."

"Not seeing is not knowing," Natori replied. "You can look at my lizard if you want to. As for me, I'd rather understand as much as I can about how the Book of Friends works, and what you do with it, Natsume. You don't have to mind using it in front of me at all. Any way I might be able to help, I will."

Natsume shook his head, frowning. "I know that, Natori-san." He hesitated, and took a deep breath.

"It's like we both have things we want to get rid of for each other, and we don't really understand what those things mean to each of us. But...I think they got us to where we are now, after all. No matter how difficult they are to have."

They held each other's gazes in silence. Natori, again, found himself at a loss for words.

What Natsume had just said was true, much more than he felt capable of admitting. He still wanted to exorcise the lizard, but at some point it had stopped being the overriding priority in his work. And, if pressed, he knew he couldn't truly conceive of its absence; it had been with him too long. So long that he sometimes found himself unsure whether it was bane or boon or both.

Perhaps that was also how Natsume felt about the Book of Friends?

He revisited his thoughts from the afternoon, adding to them: Natsume could be frightening in the depths of insight he possessed, and his uncanny instinct for stripping away pretense. He used honesty like a lovingly wielded knife.

Natori knew he wanted it: this tender blade, the sharp gentleness that kept coming for him.

What had he told himself? That there were lines between them. Uncrossable ones, perhaps. He understood this. He was right. And still he couldn't stop himself from reaching out, this time.

(The heart is in the body, and the body speaks a franker language than the mind, Takuma had once told him. Listen to yours more, Shuuichi-kun.)

Natori brushed his hand against Natsume's face, cupping it. He wasn't especially surprised when Natsume reached up, placing his own hand over Natori's so their fingers interlaced, and nestled into his palm.

"I'm not used to having things I want to protect," he murmured, stroking his thumb over the soft, pale skin of Natsume's cheek. "I'm not used to being honest. Not like you. But I can learn. It'll take time, though. And I can't guarantee I'll succeed."

"It's fine, Natori-san," Natsume said softly. "Could we...see each other more often? I'd like to come here again, if you're OK with that. And - thank you."

There it was, that smile. The light of the waxing moon was playing over the gold in his hair and eyes like a promise; the curve of his lips held an invitation.

Natori leaned in to accept it.  
  
  
*  
  
  
It was, he later reflected, far nicer than what he had to do on set.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: [there is art of Natori and Natsume in my kimono fantasies](https://twitter.com/killjoyras/status/914518936607186945), drawn by the amazing @killjoyras <333 
> 
> Inspired by gorgeous official pics of Natori and Natsume wearing kimono in a Japanese-style house, in what appears to be a series, particularly [this one](http://www.natsumeyuujinchou.wikia.com/wiki/Chapter_72?file=Chapter_72_cover.jpg) and [this one](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/natsumeyuujinchou/images/7/79/Chapter_61_cover.png/revision/latest?cb=20141009140105) and [this other one](http://www.natsumeyuujinchou.wikia.com/wiki/Chapter_62?file=Chapter_62_cover.png).
> 
> This piece got out of control - possibly the longest I've ever written, given that I only do one-shots. Traditional Japanese arts and crafts, not to mention kimono-wearing Natsume and Natori, are all so beautiful...plus, Natori as introspective seme is love. I hope you enjoyed reading this to any extent that I did writing it, and that you consider telling me if you did. :)


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